


Call me a memory

by Julx3tte



Series: sylvgrid week 2020 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Romance, Blood and Injury, Divine Pulse, F/M, Sylvgrid Week, Sylvgrid Week 2020, day 4: confession / bittersweet, i've never ACTUALLY given sylvain faith magic but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24549940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julx3tte/pseuds/Julx3tte
Summary: Dedicated to the sylvgrid discord and SYLVGRID WEEK and also sunni, nicole, and paperpenpal --I'm SORRY.“This must be how it feels,” Edelgard mused, “to be on the other side of your allies dying. Wonderful.”
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: sylvgrid week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776286
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18
Collections: Sylvgrid week 2020





	Call me a memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunnilee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnilee/gifts), [nicole_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/gifts), [emiwaka29](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emiwaka29/gifts), [paperpenpal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperpenpal/gifts).



> im a MONSTER
> 
> also definitely did this in game

The gates of Enbarr didn’t seem like the place to confess his undying love to Ingrid, so Sylvain didn’t. He waited, pulled her into a kiss before she jumped on the pegasus, and promised her that they’d sort it all out after. 

To her credit, Ingrid didn’t bat an eye. She looked at him with a fierce determination on her face -- as a knight, not as a lover -- and turned to the skies. 

A sight he burned into his memory.

* * *

He could hear her screaming. She was screaming in a way he’d never heard before. A hundred yards ahead of him, Sylvain saw The Emperor rip Ingrid right off her pegasus and slam her into the ground.

The sound was sickening. _Amyr_ crashed into Ingrid’s armor, denting the heavy chest piece right where her ribs were. Part of her leg looked crushed, twisted, and Luin lay an arm’s length away.

Sylvain moved so fast he barely had time to feel the disgusting weight in his stomach.

His heels dug into the poor horse again and again, kicking it into a sprint. He didn’t even bother to line up his spear. He just smashed right into Edelgard, knocking her back and away from Ingrid. As soon as he made contact, he jumped off the horse.

To hell with Edelgard -- Dimitri wasn’t far behind and it would take even Edelgard a minute to get up from that.

A minute was enough. 

Sylvain had picked up basic faith magic from Mercedes. It surprised him that it didn’t take much faith to heal someone - it was enough to channel magic through his body and want healing. If he had spent more time in the cathedral (or let Mercedes give him enough lessons), he’d know that _was_ the character of faith. 

For now, what he had needed to be enough. 

Kneeling over Ingrid’s body, he took a breath and summoned every ounce of magic in him.

 _You can’t fucking die on me here Ingrid. Not yet. Don’t even think about it_.

A surge of warmth covered his hand as he placed it over the dents in her armor. Then, realizing the broken armor might get in the way, he ripped off pieces of Ingrid’s armor. 

She would be fine if she didn’t lose too much blood. All he had to do was close off the wounds, stop the bleeding, stabilize the internals. The rest of them were close, and saw what happened. Mercedes could cast Physic from far away, and Flayn still had a Warp left to get her close. 

All he had to do was stop the bleeding, but the damn blood wouldn’t stop.

Sylvain wanted to throw up.

He’d been in battle for over half a decade now. He’d seen hundreds of bodies, many fallen at his hands. He’d seen his friends hurt and injured.

But none of them felt like this. His blood had never ran as cold as when Ingrid’s body thudded against the ground, and he’d never been this angry at the enemy before. Not even when Ferdinand wouldn’t stand down and save his life. Not even when Dorothea’s last Meteor missed them by inches - and he had to wonder whether she’d done it on purpose or not.

Ingrid was breathing, barely. It was more of a rasp than anything, the beginnings of a breath trapped in her throat, unable to escape her lungs.

Sylvain tried to heal again and the blood pooling by Ingrid’s side stymied for a moment before continuing.

“you can’t die here Ingrid. Not like this, not to her.” _Not in my arms, dammit. Not before I tell you what I need to tell you. Not in the same way Glenn died._

“You deserve more than this. Fuck. Dammit.”

Sylvain’s hands burned – he couldn’t keep up the casting, but he tried again. Somewhere to his right, he heard the faint sound of heavy footsteps, the sound of metal dragging on stone.

“Stay alive, dammit. I still have things to tell you.”

The footsteps stopped.

“This must be how it feels,” Edelgard mused, a sick, satisfied grin on her face, “to be on the other side of your allies dying. Wonderful.”

He ignored it.

_Ingrid, you have to get up. I’ll buy you a hundred meals after. We’ll have peace soon, and I’ll take you wherever you want. Just get UP._

He tried again, and his hands felt like splitting open. Holding the Lance of Ruin was impossible now, probably, but it didn’t matter. He’d die protecting Ingrid’s body before he’d let her die like this. 

“Ingrid, don’t leave me like this. I need to tell you that I love you.”

Edelgard raised her axe, and swung.

* * *

The best kept secret on the Blue Lions was that the impossible happened.

It was near-impossible to notice in the first place, and even then, unprovable. 

But sometimes, they’d talk about how they were sure they’d been mortally wounded, or fallen on the battlefield, and found themselves standing where they were moments before. 

It was a fleeting memory, a feeling that disappeared just seconds after, but one that all of them, from Dimitri to Flayn - had sensed at least once.

Sylvain felt the black tendrils of the memory escape him as he kicked his horse faster and faster. He only had a few seconds to clear the archers from the area before Ingrid made the first attack, challenging Edelgard’s position.

They were the vanguard, and Dimitri would soon come to finish it. Her allies were gone, and only the Emperor’s personal guard remained.

In the skies, he could see Ingrid watching the battlefield, waiting for the right time to strike. Sylvain grinned as he gripped the Lance of Ruin, ready to bring the war to a close. 

* * *

“I had another moment,” Sylvain confessed, later, under the moon when he and Ingrid had a moment alone. “The kind where I swore something else than what happened was supposed to.”

Ingrid looked up at him. She was laying on his shoulder, body entwined with his, atop one of the towers of Embarr’s inner walls. “Oh?”

“All I remember is… I needed to tell you something.” One arm was behind his head, but he wrapped the other around Ingrid’s shoulder. 

“Then tell me,” she replied. 

“I… I was supposed to tell you this before the battle. But I love you Ingrid.”

“I know. I love you too Sylvain,” she replied. She kissed him back the way he’d kissed her earlier: full of promises, and as a lover, not a knight.


End file.
